Anatomy of Hate
by silver-etoile
Summary: Regulus hates James Potter.  regulus, james slash


Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling.

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><p>Regulus hates James Potter. Not because he's older and has a smile that makes every girl in a ten foot radius swoon, not because he's a Gryffindor, a cocky, overly-confident, better-than-you Gryffindor, and not because he swaggers around the castle like he owns the place.<p>

No, that's not why he hates James Potter.

Now that he's old enough, old enough to catch James watching him on the Quidditch pitch, the slow drag of his eye down to his hips, his tongue darting out seconds before he looks away, before Regulus catches him point-blank, now his heart swells with something far from lust and more closely resembling a vicious idea.

His hand twists in James' messy black hair, forcing him down, bent over in front of him, over the bench. The changing room walls are hung with silver and green. Regulus is in his element as his dark eyes scrape over James' prostrate back, muscles straining beneath the skin. Under his boxer shorts, he's hard, but it's not because he wants James. He could have anyone, anyone in Slytherin anyway. Regulus doesn't miss the glances he gets from his housemates either, but he doesn't hate them.

He hates James.

He jerks James' hair, listening to the sharp curse that spills from his mouth, the harsh panting filling the changing room, and he gets harder knowing he's in control. His eyes darken as he runs a finger down James' spine, scratching a red line against his hip.

"Fuck, Regulus," James says, teeth ground together, and that cruel idea that has grown in him for days, months, flares like a flame inside his chest, and his grip tightens painfully.

He drags James' boxers down, over his ass, falling down his thighs, thighs parted deliciously before him. He thrusts his erection against the crack of James' ass without a word. He doesn't want to talk to James, only wants this, this feeling of being in complete control.

James doesn't struggle, pushing back against Regulus' cock, the way he grinds against him, making him harder.

They've done this before, a few times, away from prying eyes. Regulus doesn't know how James manages to get out of the castle without being seen, without his _friends_ noticing, but he does. Every time.

"Shut up," Regulus commands sharply when James groans, hands bracing himself against the bench. He shakes back his dark hair, smooth and shiny just like his brother, but the differences between them are there.

Regulus is smaller, lithe, perfect to beat James on the Quidditch pitch, to enrage him enough to satisfy that burning hatred in the pit of his stomach. He reeks of nobility where Sirius has thrown it away, thrown it away for them, for James, Remus, Peter.

Regulus doesn't know why James comes to him, but it's not important. What's important is that he's there, bent over a bench, ass in the air as Regulus pushes off his own underwear and grabs his wand.

Every time this happens, every time Regulus pushes inside him, the fire inside him glows, warms him from the inside out. It feels good, better than beating James at Quidditch because he knows, knows this is their little secret, his secret.

Regulus fucks him brutally, anger pouring out, and James takes it, asks for more, moans like a whore. He is a whore, going around fucking Slytherins behind the back of his perfect little girlfriend, and Regulus knows James can't get this anywhere else, wouldn't be able to from anyone but a Slytherin.

It starts to rain outside, drops battering the roof of the changing room, covering the gasps, the moans, the begging that almost turns Regulus' stomach as he thrusts his hips up against James', pushing his cock through the tight muscles, a heat unrelated to the hatred in his chest spreading through his body.

It feels good to fuck someone like this, like it doesn't matter how hard they go, how much it's going to hurt later, how many marks will be left behind. It won't matter tomorrow.

James gasps for breath, reaching back for Regulus' hip, pulling him in harder, and Regulus looks down, eyes scraping over the straining muscles in James' back, the sheen of sweat on his neck, wetting his hair.

Regulus comes first, lets James believe he can't wait, groaning as his release takes him, hips thrusting in deeper, harder. It's a good release but not the best, not what he wants.

He pulls out of James before James can protest, say anything, shoving him onto the bench, flat on his back, ignoring James' look of surprise. His mouth closes over James' leaking prick and James chokes on a breath.

Regulus is a damn good cock-sucker, he knows, has had plenty of practice, and now is no exception. He wants James to come, to feel nothing but bliss as he sucks hard, tongue sliding over his prick, digging into the skin.

James can't form words, or they don't make any sense to Regulus as he leans in as far as he can, holds James' hips down so they don't choke him. His fingers dig into the skin, leaving little red crescents as he slides back, releasing his cock just as James groans, come splattering Regulus' chin, the corner of his mouth, down his neck.

"Shit," James pants as he stares down, eyes stuck on the come decorating his face. He pushes himself up from the bench, reaching for Regulus' face, wiping the come off his lip and then he kisses Regulus.

Regulus pulls back a half a centimeter but it's too late as James' lips brush against his, a sticky hand sliding down his neck now. James pulls his neck forward to his mouth, hot tongue lapping at the come sliding down his throat, and Regulus falters a second, lets him keep going a minute longer.

"What the fuck."

Regulus turns his head towards the door, the person standing there, clothes wet from the rain and both hands on the doorframe blocking the exit.

"Padfoot!" James is the first to speak, scrambling up from the bench as Sirius stares from one to the other.

Regulus doesn't get up, raising dark, challenging eyes to Sirius as James pulls on his clothes in a hurry.

"What did," James starts to say, pulling his robe on backwards, stopping to glance at Sirius, his stormy expression. "Look, mate—"

Behind James, Regulus quirks a malicious eyebrow, crossing his arms and raising his chin slowly to meet Sirius' gaze. He may be the younger brother but Sirius doesn't scare him.

"Just go," Sirius interrupts James, and his tone is as cold as the rain outside, and James, who Regulus has never seen obey an order like that, grabs his shoes and skirts out around Sirius.

"Nice to see you too," Regulus says finally when James disappears. He grabs his boxers from the floor and pulls them on slowly, standing up. Sirius looms over him, only a few inches taller but always bigger, always darker when he's angry.

"I don't know what you're doing," Sirius spits finally, "but stay away from my friends."

"Like I want anything to do with them," Regulus sneers, pulling on his robe. "Keep your blood-traitor friends."

Sirius' wand whips out so fast Regulus almost doesn't have time to react, but he knows the drill, and his wand meets Sirius' just as quickly.

"Do it," Regulus goads, dark eyes flashing. "Mom and Dad won't kick you out again."

"I left because our family is disgusting, and if you weren't such a clone, you'd know that too," Sirius says, a few red sparks flying out of the tip of his wand. Regulus doesn't flinch, holding steady.

His heart pounds in his chest, blood rushing in his ears at Sirius' words, the anger in his voice.

"But you're just a coward like them," Sirius says. "You always will be."

"So you're just going back to the Potters?" Regulus demands when Sirius lowers his wand and takes a step back, disgust all over his face. "You're abandoning your family?"

"You're not my family," Sirius replies, stepping back towards the door as James appears in it, fully-clothed now although quite damp from the rain.

"Hey," James says as Sirius steps past him. "I need to talk to you."

"Let's go back to the castle," Sirius says, leaving Regulus without so much as a backward glance, and James doesn't dare look back either.

Yes, Regulus thinks as he goes to the door and watches them trudge up the lawn towards the glowing lights of the castle, he hates James Potter, and not because he tries to kiss him after sex or because he can get anyone to forgive him.

No. He hates the boy who took away his best friend and ruined his family. That's who he hates.

FIN.


End file.
